Crappy Luck
by caesara
Summary: Phil and Renee disappear to Vegas like the irresponsible parents that they are, and they leave Bella home alone to fend for herself. What crappy luck.


**Ok, kids, I had this dream where my parents left me and went to Vegas so I decided to write a fic about it! Tell me if you want me to continue! This could just be a one-shot...**

I can't believe what I'm seeing. Phil and Renee have often ignored me-that, I can live with, but _this_? Not this. This time they have gone too far.

I re-read the letter for the 15th time as I pace the living room. How the hell do they get off calling themselves parents? They disappear and only leave behind this pitiful excuse of a note as some type of consolidation for the daughter they leave behind?

_Bella,_

_Phil and I have gone to Vegas for a vacation! Isn't that exciting? We'll only be gone 2-3 weeks I think. There's food in the fridge. Go to school. Don't have sex._

_Renee_

Go to school? Don't have sex? What kind of pathetic last words of advice is that? God, it is so Phil and Renee-ish. I smack my forehead. It's not even like I have any good friends that I can spend the night with for that long. What am I going to do? I sigh. School started about 2 hours ago; I already missed my Psych test because of their latest shenanigans. Of course_ I_ am blessed with a stupid immature mother and freaking vacation-junkie stepdad.

Coffee. I need coffee and then I'll head to school. I rummage around for the coffee in the cupboard, only to find that the coffee maker has been Phil-ed. He breaks everything he touches-even the dang coffee maker, apparently because it won't even turn on! Great. My 'parents' leave me for some let's be young again/ get drunk / waste money we don't have vacation, and I can't even get my coffee? I haven't had sex yet, haven't killed anybody, and haven't even been in a fist fight. This is not one of those times when 'Karma's a bitch' is the appropriate phrase. Can anyone say crappy luck?

I groan. My God, I'm sick of sick of them. Maybe it's a good thing they went on vacation-which, by the way, I'm not even sure how they are pulling this off. We're not poor but this country is in a freaking recession isn't it? Or is all of this depressing stuff on the news talking about dead bunnies nowadays? Have I really been tuning out the news for this long? I doubt it. We're all affected by it and I know we don't have _that_ kind of money. _That- _meaning the amount of money it takes to first of all get to Vegas and then take a possibly 1 month long vacation there. Maybe they're some kind of super mercenaries and I just don't know it.

I guess I'll just go straight to school then. How fun. I pull out my phone and check my calendar for anything I was supposed to do today. Crap. Get these stitches out of my head, of course. Such great timing, right? Am I allowed to waltz into the hospital without my parents at the age of 16? Don't know, but I guess I'll find out. I want these stitches out of my head more than I care about what Dr. Simpson is going to find out about my dysfunctional family. This is all so unbelievable. Unbe-freaking-lievable.

_At least they left my truck. _

I climb in old-trusty and head off to the hospital.

* * *

I get the regular weight and height and blood-pressure done by a nurse that I know. I feel like it's all a bit much to get this string out of my skull. I am surprised when a man walks in instead of Dr. Simpson.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Cullen, but you can call me Carlisle. Dr. Simpson is sick so I'll be the one taking those stitches out of you today." The doctor says when he walks in and smiles at me. He's actually good looking too...

_Cullen? As in the dad of those kids at school? I've talked to a few of them before. _

"I don't care who's getting these stitches out, as long as they're out." I admit with a small smile. He seems like an easy going guy. Maybe I'll just tell him upfront. He has kids. He should be a bit understanding, although I already feel like he's the type that wouldn't abandon their kid for a Vegas trip.

I draw my foot up on the examination table so my knee is resting against my chest and I start to pick at the old worn brown Converse that are my favorites. I'm not sure how I'll ever depart with them I like them so much. They match with everything right?

"Does it matter that my parents aren't here?" I ask him, worriedly. "They kind of went on an unexpected vacation." I roll my eyes, still in awe of their irresponsible ways.

Carlisle raises his eyebrow and gives me a look. "Why do I have a feeling it's more than that?"

I sigh.

**So...what do you think?** **Tell me!**


End file.
